


a matter of principle

by princesskay



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23633053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: When Holden's risque strategy in an interview starts an argument between him and Bill about principles and possession, he decides to end the discussion with a show of sexual control and autonomy.
Relationships: Holden Ford/Bill Tench
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	a matter of principle

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon on tumblr who wanted more of the same from "architect of a feeling" - and everyone else who really enjoyed Holden taking control in that fic! Thanks for the positive feedback 💕

Holden never leaves the correctional facility feeling clean, but at the very least, he always feels triumphant when the tape recorder tucked in his bag is carrying priceless insights gleaned from a killer who had just opened up to them. 

As they walk silently out of the South Mississippi Correctional Institution, Holden can tell that Bill isn’t feeling the same way. He peeks an intuitive glance at the rigid set of Bill’s jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the hard jab of his thumb striking his lighter. Smoke clouds against the damp humidity in the air, exhaled forcefully by the pensive purse of his mouth. 

“Well, it worked.” Holden says, “Just like I said.”

“Yeah, great.” Bill replies, not sparing him a glance as he reaches the car and jabs the key into the lock. “What do you want? A fucking medal?”

Holden’s mouth compresses against fleeting irritation as he climbs into the passenger seat.

They’d spent almost the entirety of the flight arguing over strategy. Their subject, Harvey Atkins, is a homosexual who had murdered more than ten young men over the course of a five year period. In the first interview, he’d shown a great deal of interest in Holden, and much to Bill’s chagrin, that attraction had been about the only thing keeping him talking. 

“We have to use this.” Holden had said, after trying in vain to placate Bill’s disbelief. 

“What? So he can go back to his cell and jack off thinking about you every night?”

“Sure. If he wants to.”

“And it doesn’t bother you that he’s putting you in his fantasies?”

“They’re just fantasies. They can’t hurt me.”

Bill had let out an exasperated sigh of disbelief, lit a cigarette, and barely spoke to Holden for the rest of the flight. 

Unswayed, Holden went into the interview with his strategy fully prepared. Reel Atkins in, shower him with attention, get him to open up. Bill had nearly leapt out of his chair when Atkins touched Holden’s hand, but that was the turning point. The rest of the interview had gone smoothly from there with Atkins confessing everything they were searching for - childhood details, stressors, impulses never recorded by any police report. Holden felt that they were mining gold. 

Now, as they drive in terse silence back to the hotel, he can sense Bill’s anger simmering at a low boil beneath the surface; and he knows it’s wrong because Bill simply wants to defend his honor, but he’s annoyed - and that only makes him want to poke the bear harder. 

“Can you at least admit that what we got was useful?” Holden asks, casting a glance across the car at Bill’s stoic profile. 

“Objectively, yes. It was useful - but at what cost?”

Bill’s gaze swings over to meet Holden’s fiercely pinning him with this question. 

“I was never in any real danger.” Holden says, “I don’t know why you’re so upset.”

“It’s a matter of principle, Holden. It was degrading and disgusting, pandering him to him like that. You’re nothing more than a piece of meat to that guy. If he wasn’t in prison, he wouldn’t hesitate to do all the same terrible things to you that he did to all those other men.”

“He can’t touch me, though.”

“He  _ did  _ touch you.” 

The hum of tires over asphalt fills the taut silence as Bill’s gaze passes between the road and Holden, burning with anger. 

“And you’re what? Jealous of a psychopathic killer because he barely touched my  _ hand _ ?” 

“Not jealous.” Bill says, his mouth curling in disgust. 

“Possessive, maybe.” Holden mutters, turning his gaze back to the window. “You don’t own me, you know.”

“Of course not. That’s not what I was implying.”

“It’s my body, my life. I can do whatever I want with it. And if I want to use it to extract extremely useful, priceless insights from our subjects, then that’s my prerogative.”

Bill scoffs, and leans over to roll down the window. The hollow rush of wind rushes in to bluster over the silence as he takes another drag of his cigarette and taps ashes out into the open air. 

Holden closes his eyes, swallowing back his mounting frustration. He’d rather not be arguing about their tactics right now, not when they could be doing something else. They just scored a major victory after two unsuccessful interviews with Atkins, and they should be celebrating. 

When they get back to the hotel, Bill mutters that he’s getting a shower to wash off the grime from the correctional facility. The bathroom door slams shut behind him, leaving Holden alone in the silence of the hotel room. 

Holden goes to his bag to change out of his work clothes and into his pajamas. His gaze bounces off the Vaseline sitting in the bottom corner, and his belly knots with raw frustration and need. They’ve been so busy the past few weeks that they haven’t had much time for sex. He’d been hoping after a successful interview that they’d be spending the rest of their time here in Mississippi enjoying each other, but instead, they’re arguing over something that’s moot point now that it's all said and done. 

Holden pauses as their conversation in the car flits across the back of his mind.  _ It’s my body. I can do whatever I want with it.  _ He’d said it in a moment of anger, but it’s true - and Bill being jealous and possessive shouldn’t stop him from taking the edge off. 

Quickly stripping out of his clothes, Holden grabs the Vaseline and crawls onto the bed. Warmth is already curling low between his thighs as he arranges the pillows against the headboard and leans his shoulders back into them. Tilting his head back against the headboard, he slips his eyes shut, and focuses on that little clench of need growing to a throb low in his belly. His palm slides down his stomach to nudge against his cock, finding himself half-hard but quickly swelling to the graze of contact. 

Wrapping his fingers fully around the shaft, he drags himself to full erection with a few firm pulls. A quiet gasp lurches against the back of his throat as need spirals tighter and hotter through his belly, turning to a persistent ache. He shifts into a faster stroke, thumbing at the head, squeezing at the root to draw himself to twitching hardness. 

Sinking down against the pillows, he draws one knee up against his chest and slips his other hand down over his balls to rub up against his hole. The slight friction sends a bolt of arousal through him, and he bites his lower lip over a choked cry. 

Panting softly with mounting need, he grabs the Vaseline and quickly unscrews the lid. He gathers a liberal amount of the ointment on his fingertips, and lathers it over his hole while keeping a steady pace on his cock. 

The water in the shower shuts off, and Holden opens his eyes to level a glare at the closed door. A petty strain of annoyance rushes his chest.  _ I’ll show you.  _ It feels childish, but in the moment, he doesn’t care; his body is singing to his touch, everything humming and tingling and drawing tight with growing arousal. And he’s going to get his orgasm one way or another, whether Bill is pissed off at him or not. 

Just as his slick finger is breaching his hole, the bathroom door creaks open. Holden’s pulse spikes, some ingrained instinct of shame freezing in his veins to stop him from what he’s doing; but he pushes past the hesitation, and strokes his cock harder. His finger thrusts inside, drawing a moan from the back of his throat. 

Holden’s eyes momentarily squeeze shut against the thrill of satisfaction, but when he opens them again, Bill is standing a few feet from the end of the bed, staring down at him with a mix of alarm and desire clashing in his eyes. 

Holden swallows past the choked need in his throat. “Like what you see?”

Bill’s hands curl into fists at his sides, and his jaw ripples with a fierce clench. “Is this some kind of fucking apology?”

Holden pants, his teeth scraping at his lower lip as his finger plunges into his hole. He shakes his head. “Hardly.”

Bill stands still for a moment longer, and Holden can see his cock beginning to throb against his boxers. 

Holden maintains eye contact as he pumps his finger in and out of himself. The wet squelch is the only sound that reaches above the stifling hum of tension, and Holden can see it slowly taking Bill apart. 

Breaking out of his paralyzed stance, Bill marches across the carpet in two strides, and crawls onto the end of the bed towards him. Just as his hands reach the center of the bed, Holden pulls his leg away from his chest, and plants his foot against Bill’s forehead. 

Bill’s momentum comes to a halt, and he sinks down to his elbows with a frustrated grunt. Glaring up at Holden, he curls his fist around Holden’s ankle and drags the inner bone down against his mouth. Hot breath sears across the thin layer of skin, followed by the wet press of his lips and the graze of hungry teeth. 

Holden moans, pulling his ankle out of Bill’s grasp. “No.” 

“No? Holden-”

“No.” Holden repeats, his voice low and raspy with mounting need. “You can look. Don’t touch.”

Bill’s eyes flash, lightning across misty, gray skies. His mouth curls with frustrated need, but he doesn’t open his mouth to argue as he watches Holden’s slick fingers penetrate himself over and over. 

Holden settles his foot against Bill’s shoulder, and draws the other leg up against his chest to achieve a better angle of penetration. He sighs and moans aloud as his fingers curl down against his prostate, eliciting a frisson of pleasure that rolls up his belly and through his chest. 

“Oh, fuck.” Holden moans, his head tilting back and his mouth falling open. “Oh, that feels good.”

Bill grunts from below him, and Holden slips his eyes open to see him curling one fist around the bed sheets and pressing the other to his mouth. His eyes are half-lidded with need, unable to decide between squeezing shut against the erotic images or watching on in transfixed awe. His hips rock into the mattress, searching for friction as his erection is undoubtedly growing to unbearable hardness. 

Holden tucks his teeth over his lower lip to smother a pleased smile. A thrill of satisfaction works through his chest as he watches the need and frustration shift in maddened turns across Bill’s tense expression. Right now, he must be thinking about crawling up here, pinning Holden facedown in the sheets, and fucking him senseless; and the fact that Holden isn’t allowing him to do it is killing him. Worse than Atkins, worse than an accidental hand brush, worse than Holden’s flippancy over the interview, worse than anything. 

Holden pauses long enough to grab more Vaseline with both pairs of fingers. As he strokes the ointment down his cock, he uses two fingers to penetrate himself again. The addition of his middle finger stretches the already humming, aching skin and reaches deeper, down to his prostate where he’s swollen and taut with need. A strangled cry erupts from his chest as he thrusts his fingers in hard, searching for that spot that strikes brilliant pleasure all through his body. 

“Jesus, fuck, Holden.” Bill curses, punching his fist into the mattress. “Come on.”

“No.” Holden pants, his eyes struggling to stay open as arousal cuts through him. “Don’t even think about it.”

Bill’s head drops, his shoulders rising with a shuddering breath. “Fuck.”

Holden lodges his foot harder into Bill’s shoulder, using the leverage to bear down against his pumping fingers. Keeping his gaze fixed on Bill’s tortured expression, he drags his slick fingers lazily over his cock, toying with the head, grazing the throbbing shaft, reaching down to knead his swollen balls. 

“Fucking Christ.” Bill chokes out, his eyes squinting with mounting desire as Holden’s palm rolls across his ballsack. His hips arch up from the mattress, and he thrusts a hand underneath himself to rub at his cock. 

“Stop.” Holden says, his voice ragged yet resolute. “Don’t do that. Just watch me.”

Bill glares up at him, his eyes simmering with barely contained fire. “You fucking-”

“Uh-uh. You better be nice to me. I might not let you fuck me talking to me like that.”

Bill’s jaw clenches, and he looks ready to start swearing defiantly. 

“You do want to fuck me, don’t you?” Holden whispers, licking deliberately across his lips. 

A choked sound rises in the back of Bill’s throat, but he clamps his lips shut. A frown furls across his brow, angry and fierce, as he nods his head. 

Holden sighs as his hand slips back up his cock, fingers curling around the shaft to apply slow, persistent pressure. Heat winds itself around his belly and the pressure mounts, inching him closer to the verge of pleasure. He slows the pumping of his fingers, eager to extend this moment, not only for himself but also for Bill, who looks close to exploding with repressed, frustrated need. 

“Fuck, okay.” He pants, his voice ragged and tortured. “You were right. Is that what you want me to say? We tried everything else, and it was the only strategy that worked.”

Holden’s mouth trembles with a smile. “I know I was right.”

Bill lowers his head, drawing in a deep breath, and curling his fists around handfuls of the duvet. “Fuck, Holden. Come on, what else do you want from me?”

“I think you know.” 

Bill’s face pinches with irritation, but his eyes are hazily focused on the slick, gradual thrust of Holden’s fingers working in and out of his hole. 

“Please.” He whispers, so low it’s nearly inaudible. 

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“Fuck, please.” Bill growls, his hand breaking away from the sheets to clutch uncontrollably at Holden’s calf. “You want me to beg you? Well, I’m fucking begging.”

“For what?”

Bill’s eyes press shut as a shaky exhale groans past his lips. “Holden-”

“Say it.” Holden groans, pumping his finger deliberately in and out himself. “God, I’m so close. You better say it before I come.”

“Please,” Bill says, his voice a strangled moan, “Let me fuck you.”

Holden’s mouth tugs in a smile beneath the pinch of his teeth. He enjoys the longing tension hanging in the air around the plea for a moment before letting his fingers slip out of his hole. Opening his eyes, he glances down at Bill’s drawn, taut expression of intense need. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He murmurs. 

Bill bolts into motion. Scrambling up onto his hands and knees, he pounces between Holden’s splayed thighs, and smothers him with a biting kiss. His hands are shaking as he paws his way down Holden’s heaving chest and ribs, laying claim on his hips and the backs of his thighs. Pushing Holden’s legs up against his chest, he reaches down to yank his boxers back from his swollen cock. Their mouths break apart as he fumbles for the Vaseline, fingers jabbing eagerly into the ointment. 

“Fuck, hurry.” Holden pants, his breath blasting hot against Bill’s cheeks. “I’m so fucking close, Bill.”

Bill smears the Vaseline over his cock with a few sloppy tugs before guiding the pulsing tip to Holden’s opening. 

Holden cries out at the first hot graze of flesh, the pressure and closeness he’s been longing for. Clutching his knees up against his chest, he tries to be still as Bill’s cock slowly plunges into him, filling him inch-by-inch. 

“Oh my god.” Holden whimpers, grabbing at Bill’s shoulder to pull him down closer. “Bill, my god-”

With a thrust, Bill’s cock delves all the way in, and their skin meets with a muted slap. Bill grunts raggedly from deep in his chest, and bends closer to press his forehead to Holden’s. Their gazes hold fiercely as he clutches Holden’s hips in place, and begins to rock steadily against him. 

“Fuck.” Bill grunts, his mouth slipping open in pleasured agony. “Oh, you feel so good.”

Holden wraps his arm around Bill’s neck, and yanks him down into a hungry kiss. Their mouths collide sloppily as Bill’s thrusts shift from deep and slow to fast and jolting. Their bodies jostle every time they meet, jarring ragged moans and high-pitched whimpers from both of them. 

Bill’s cock goes deep on every impact, thrusting him all the way open, rubbing up against his prostate. Holden moans in shocked pleasure as the consistent rutting pushes his already blooming arousal towards the edge. He reaches between them to grab at his cock, and finds the tip weeping pre-cum, flinching sensitively at the slightest caress. 

“Oh my God.” Holden moans, tearing his mouth away from Bill’s. His breath blasts hot against Bill’s mouth and cheeks, blustering up against Bill’s own ragged panting. “Bill … harder.”

Bill gives a low, aroused growl at the plea, and wastes no time in responding. 

Holden gasps in shock as Bill’s cock shifts into a faster, harder rhythm, bringing their bodies slapping together and his cock going deep on every thrust. The bed groans beneath them as the rutting reaches a fever pitch, so swift and deliberate that Holden can barely breathe, can barely see past the stars prickling the corners of his vision. He loses sight of everything except for the full sensation of his body submitting entirely to the invasion of Bill’s cock and the tingling wave of pleasure rising up in his belly to swallow him. 

Holden tugs faster, desperately at his cock, rubbing the mounting tension fervidly towards the edge until, with a deep, hard spasm, he comes. His mouth stretches open, producing nothing more than a breathless whine as the pleasure crashes through his body, through his veins, clamping every muscle down so tightly that he feels like he could break. Then the tension breaks, and he feels himself releasing, all the pent-up need of the past several days draining free in long, slick jets of cum across his belly and chest. 

As the haze of pleasure lifts, Holden’s eyes slip open to glimpse Bill above him. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth fixed in a grimace of approaching pleasure. Sweat gleams in a fine mist across his forehead and chest as he pushes himself toward the edge with swift, violent thrusts that never sway despite his labored breaths. 

Holden hangs onto his shoulders, biting back cries as Bill’s cock rams into his sensitized body that’s still reeling from the tender aftermath of orgasm. In a matter of moments, Bill is seizing against him, his body shuddering in Holden’s embrace as the orgasm overwhelms him. His head drops down against Holden’s shoulder, and his hips descend into jagged, sloppy thrusts. He groans in staggered, strangled sounds through every spasm until the pleasure dies, lingering only in the shiver down his spine and his exhilarated panting. 

Pulling out slowly, he sinks down against Holden, and nestles his cheek into Holden’s belly. 

Holden lets his head fall back against the pillows and closes his eyes. His heart slows down gradually, but his whole body is humming with the aftershocks, pleasure living in the sensitive tingle dwelling at his core.

They lay in silence for a long moment with Holden’s fingertips wandering across Bill’s shoulder and up against his nape, nails scratching faintly over his scalp. Bill shivers softly against the touch, and clutches tighter at Holden’s waist. 

When they have both caught their breath, Bill lifts his head from Holden’s stomach to meet his eyes. 

“You’re fucking infuriating, you know that?” He says, his mouth tipping in a smile even as the words leave his tongue. 

Holden smirks. “Am I?”

“I want to stay mad at you, but I can’t.” Bill says, shaking his head. “You’re too fucking beautiful.”

Holden purses his lips over a growing smile. “I’m not mad either. I think you fucked it right out of me.”

Bill laughs, and shifts up to press a kiss against the corner of Holden’s mouth. Their mouths linger softly, damply against one another until he pulls back, a small frown marring his brow.

“I still don’t agree one hundred percent with your strategy with Atkins.”

Holden nods, sobering. “I know.”

“So what? We agree to disagree?”

“Okay, sure. We all got what we wanted, didn’t we?”

“That’s exactly the issue. Atkins got what he wanted, too.”

“Mm, but only you get to fuck me.” Holden murmurs, leaning in to smother the unhappy tug at the corner of Bill’s mouth with a kiss. 

“I thought you said I didn’t own you.”

“You don’t. I  _ let  _ you fuck me.” 

Bill’s teeth prick at his lower lip as a pained expression crosses his face. “Yes.”

Holden chuckles softly. “You’ve never begged anyone for sex in your life, have you? It really shows.”

Bill sighs, and rolls off of Holden to reach for his cigarettes on the nightstand. He scowls at his focuses on the lighter and the burst of smoke. 

“There’s a first time for everything, I guess.” Holden says, suppressing his amusement. “And a second.”

Bill cuts him a glare. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Holden shrugs, “I don’t know. That I kind of liked the way you looked down at my feet, begging like your life depended on it.”

Bill pushes off the pillows, and leans over to pin Holden to the sheets with a low growl. Holden laughs aloud as Bill kisses him hard on the mouth and the throat. When he lifts his head, Bill tucks his cigarette in his mouth, and pins Holden’s wrist to the mattress. 

“You should be careful.” He murmurs, the hazy blue of his eyes clouded by smoke. “Next time, it might not turn out the way you hoped.”

Holden smiles up at him coyly, feeling the last of his frustration melting away into blissful satisfaction and anticipation. 

“I can’t fucking wait.” He whispers. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm [prinxcesskayy](https://prinxcesskayy.tumblr.com//) on Tumblr!  
> 


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